Pretty
by moodiful819
Summary: Shikamaru did a double-take. That couldn’t be right. Temari was wearing…a DRESS? .:ShikaTem:.


I've finally written a ShikaTem piece. I don't know why I've waited so long when I like them so much. Writing ShikaTem is fun! As for the building, I want thinking something with the exterior of the Palace of Fine Arts, but an interior like the Legion of Honor. (Just on case someone wanted more detail on the building.) Now to work on the oneshot I promised RamaChan. (Go check her deviantart account now! Her ShikaTem is godly!)

_Disclaimer: Do Not Own Naruto._

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**Pretty**  
_by moodiful819_

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"Troublesome."

The word was said on a bored sigh, dark eyes scanning the ballroom slowly. It was Tuesday, but it wasn't just any Tuesday. Today was the long-awaited delegate meeting, bringing ambassadors and dignitaries from all the countries and shinobi nations for treaty talks (as well as flaunt Konoha's renewed strength). Needless to say, if anything went wrong, Konoha would have a war on their hands.

That being said, Tsunade had assigned some of her best shinobi to this party. Their job: to blend in with the party-goers and tamp down any suspicious plots before they occur. Notable names among the list were Kakashi, Sakura, Tenten, Neji, Genma, and himself as well. All were expected to dress in their best clothes. They were supposed to look like dignitaries, after all, and this was a formal event.

And so, Nara Shikamaru was stuck in a tuxedo, which he hated. Though Neji and Kakashi seemed to be wearing the same dreaded outfit with ease, Shikamaru continued to fidget in his. Honestly, he didn't understand the point of these things, even after twenty-one years on this earth. They were constrictive, hot, and just troublesome in general—not to mention how his tie was choking him.

Looking around, he spotted the familiar faces, though they were hard to spot. Sakura and Kakashi were by one of the eight entrances of the pavilion where the event was being held. Both were using henge to disguise themselves, though Shikamaru could still spot Sakura's trademark smile and Kakashi's trademark slouch. Neji and Tenten were patrolling the floor, Neji's Byakugan having been exchanged for a pair of dramatic green eyes. Genma, however, merely exchanged his senbon for a toothpick, though he had forgone his bandana for the evening. Out of everyone, he probably had the least trouble blending in. With his dark hair and dark eyes, he was innocuous. No one would expect him to be anything more than a bored ambassador-in-training dragged here by his parents. He sighed again.

"Troublesome."

He really hated these events. He'd only been to clan meetings, but they were all the same. The small appetizers were always a hassle to eat, the people were a drag, and it was always boring. He dropped his head down and sighed against the column he rested on. The building itself was a drag too because honestly, who did Grecian-Roman architecture anymore?

"Stop sighing. You're making me depressed."

Immediately, Shikamaru snapped his head up and felt his eyes widen in surprise. "Temari?"

The blonde woman nodded once. Shikamaru blinked, still in shock. "Why are you here?" he asked incredulously.

The sandy blonde snapped shut the fan in her hand and folded her arms elegantly over her chest. "This is a delegate meeting," she said, a brow raised challengingly before sighing when he merely blinked in confusion. Men could be so stupid sometimes. "Gaara couldn't make it and since Sand needed a delegate and I was experienced in relations, I was sent."

She turned and looked at him from the corner of her eye. "Unless you're planning on catching flies, I suggest you close that mouth of yours," she said fanning herself. When he did as he was told, she smiled and shook her head, a small chuckle escaping her lips. "Honestly, what's the matter? You've been gawking at me since I came up to you."

"Y-you're wearing a d-dress," he said in astonishment, staring at the slinky black number encompassing his long-time friend. She threw her head back and laughed. The sound was deep, rich, and womanly, and it took all that Shikamaru had to not shiver.

"What? You mean this old thing?" she asked picking up her dress, turning this way and that as the fabric danced teasingly around her ankles. Shikamaru inwardly groaned. Didn't she realize how she looked in that dress? The way it clung to every curve and dip of her body? He could feel the blood steadily rushing from his body to his face; a familiar warmth began blooming in his body. He sighed. This night was becoming more and more troublesome.

Temari continued to laugh. "What's the matter, Nara? Never seen a woman in a dress before?"

"No," he grumbled under her breath, knowing she was laughing at his reddened face. Troublesome woman. He rubbed the back of his neck agitatedly. "It's just that I've never seen _you _wear a dress."

Which was true, he realized in the back of his head. In all the time he'd seen her, she'd been in kimonos, but never dresses.

Temari blinked. "Well, I have to wear a dress. This _is_ a formal black-and-white gala event," she said pulling out the invitation to show him. Her brows knit as she tucked it away. "What? Does it look horrible on me or something?" Her gaze held a hint of unease that was foreign on Temari, yet strangely endearing. Shikamaru shook his head.

"No. You look fine—very pretty, in fact," he reassured, only to realize what he'd just said.

Troublesome.

Temari blinked. "Did you just—?"

"I didn't say anything," he said turning his back to her, only to find her in his face once more. He did not like that glimmer in her eye.

"You just called me 'pretty,' didn't you?" Her tone held surprise, curiosity, smugness, and a sense of girlish excitement that he never would've expected from her. Her expectant smile and excited eyes made her seem more like a regular girl than the hardened kunoichi he knew her to be. It was a surprise, and truth be told, kind of nice.

But that wasn't going to stop him from trying to salvage what was left of his pride.

"No," he denied, avoiding her probing gaze as she peered up at him (there was a considerable height difference between them now, not to mention the dance they had just done up a flight of stairs). She gasped.

"You're blushing!"

There went the rest of his pride.

"No, I'm not," he said quickly, covering his face with his hand. A smile all too-knowing for his tastes graced her features.

"You're blushing," she repeated, a mischievous glint twinkling in her eye, "And the only reason you would be blushing is if you said or did something uncomfortable. And since you're denying it so adamantly, I'm even more suspicious than before."

She smiled up at him with steady confidence, daring him to say otherwise. Troublesome; he knew she had heard it the first time, but she just wanted to hear it again. He sighed.

"Alright, I called you pretty. Are you happy now?"

She released her hold on his tuxedo and smiled wider. "Very," she replied smugly with female satisfaction as she straightened out his collar.

Shikamaru rolled his eyes. Finally, she was satisfied. "So can we drop this?" he asked in exasperation. Temari looked back at him with a smile.

"Sure..."

Shikamaru breathed a sigh of relief.

"But only if you dance with me."

Shikamaru nodded, then whipped his head so quickly, he thought he might've given himself whiplash and did a double-take. "What?"

"You heard me," she said with that same glimmer in her eyes that he learned to hate. Ignoring his glare, she smiled and took his hands in hers, drawing them to her. Taking his left hand, she practically ran to the middle of the ballroom where a waltz was starting on the black and tan tile floor, and stopped. Hand in his, she bit her lip and peered up at him shyly. Idly, he thought she looked quite adorable biting her lip and staring up at him as his mind took notice of how the chandelier lights caught in her teal eyes and how warm her hand was in his. He never noticed how small her hand was compared to his. They fit perfectly.

"Well…aren't you going to ask me to dance?" Despite her tough front, he could see the nervousness creeping at the edge of her eyes.

He sighed. "Troublesome," he muttered, but that didn't stop him from taking up her hands and leading her around the dance floor, a small smile on his face.


End file.
